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Tag Archives: tompa

Going through old photos: Tompa, a day at the park I’d love to have back

Posted on June 29, 2020 by barnge

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged barnge, bc, beacon hill park, color photography, dog, flat coat retriever, tompa, victoria

old prints: portraits, skateboards, still life

Posted on November 24, 2016 by barnge

bwlightroom-1-2 bwlightroom-2-2 bwlightroom-3-2 bwlightroom-4-2 bwlightroom-5-2

bwlightroom-1 bwlightroom-2 bwlightroom-3 bwlightroom-4 bwlightroom-5 bwlightroom-7 bwlightroom-8 bwlightroom-9 bwlightroom-10 bwlightroom-11 bwlightroom-12 bwlightroom-13 bwlightroom-14 bwlightroom-15 bwlightroom-16 bwlightroom-17 bwlightroom-18 bwlightroom-19 bwlightroom-20 bwlightroom-21 bwlightroom-6

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged barnge, bc, black and white, chinatown, color photography, conlan, dane, devin doyle, film, graham, jamie bailey, jess atmore, josh green, kenny, knife, photography, playing card, skateboarding, sophie, stetson hat, tompa, zach

Turn the spit on that pig. Kick the drum and let me down.

Posted on June 23, 2015 by barnge

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged 100, barnge, bc, beacon hill park, black and white, black dog, black dress, cliffs, film, flat coated retriever, ice cream, lang, light leak, photography, summer, t-max, tall grass, tmax, tompa, victoria

the last one, I swear

Posted on December 31, 2014 by barnge

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged 35mm, black and white, dog, flat coated retriever, goddamn dog again, tompa

another old roll

Posted on December 31, 2014 by barnge

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged barnge, black and white, haircut, ida, tompa, victoria

Tompa

Posted on December 3, 2014 by barnge

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged bc, beacon hill park, black, black and white, dog, flat coated retriever, photography, tompa, tree, victoria, west coast

The Time Machine

The Time Machine

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Our bodies twist like shoelaces
I watched you braid your hair, you’re from another time
Dig my grave with a silver spade
I was thinkin’ about turquoise, I was thinkin’ about gold
It don’t matter at all if I’m blind
I serve my head up on a plate
I had to walk real slow even though I wanted to run
I was gone, I was free to leave
I tried to lose myself in the primitive, in Yosemite, like John Muir did
Pleased to be swallowed by the sea

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